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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22864081">True Friends (Treebros).</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganSmith847/pseuds/MeganSmith847'>MeganSmith847</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek &amp; Paul/Levenson, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek &amp; Paul/Levenson (Broadway Cast) Actor RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Gay Relationship, Gay, Gay Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Social Anxiety, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Treebros</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:02:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,747</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22864081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganSmith847/pseuds/MeganSmith847</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor and Evan are both people that want to disappear, but they find a friendship they never expected with the person that they least expected to find friendship with.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Evan's point of view of how he feels to be in a world that he no longer wants to be in.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <strong>I want to disappear.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>The point has come in my life, where I no longer want to be here. I just want to disappear, but that doesn't seem to be the life that has been planned for me, because it didn't work. I tried, and I'm still here even though I wished that I wasn't.</p><p>Maybe God has a plan for me, a reason for me to live. I wish he would make it clear to me soon though. If it is the case I am set to stay on this world I at least want to know the reason why. Currently, I have absolutely no reason to still be here. Hell, I don't even want to still be here. Life lives on though, you move on and forget that something happened. You just fade away, into the background to not be seen. I wish people would understand me.</p><p>My clothes are a part of my identity, but people just see me as the literal walking version of death himself. To me, that's a compliment but I would prefer not to be seen. At least then I wouldn't be subject to ridicule and taunts of pathetic, unoriginal word calling that gets thrown my way. The 'freak' comment is repeatedly used. I am a freak. I've admitted that to myself, but I've always wished that someone would understand me enough to view me as anything over than what I am labelled to be.</p><p>I wish that fading into the distance was an option. Nobody will ever see me the way that I wish I could be seen. Pinning my hopes on a dream that will never become reality is why I am so desperate to be free from the world. My wishes are pointless, but if there was one wish that I craved more than any other, it would be the dream for someone to understand me for me. A dream for someone to see past my exterior and into the interior of the true me. Someone who could be my friend, despite all my flaws. Someone that could make me happy, a foreign thought that I feel like I can never be but one that the I still grip onto the hope to feel coursing through my veins once again.</p><p>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Have you ever felt like nobody was there?</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Have you ever felt like you could disappear?</strong>
  </em>
</p><p><em>Dear Evan Hansen</em>, today is going to be a good day and here's why. Today isn't going to be a good day, or a good year because why would it be? You're all alone. You have nobody to talk to. The only friend that you have is Jared and he doesn't even want to admit you are friends, or even really family friends as he calls it. That's because of his embarrassed of you, you're a freak and a burden to your mom. You waste all her money on therapy and letters that don't even work. She thinks you can be cured, a hope that you clung onto for a long time but eventually let go. There is no cure. That's why you didn't fall out of the tree, it's why you let go. It's why you felt like you had no reason to hold on, there was nothing to live for anymore.</p><p>
  <strong>It didn't work.</strong>
</p><p>You're still here, despite your attempt to disappear from a world that doesn't want you in it.</p><p>You're just having to live each day like any other, waiting to be seen by at least one person. Living the day with the constant torment of the hope and stream of endless wishes that won't come true, the string of confidence that you wish could pull you closer to at least some sort of human interaction, at least one person who you could call a friend. Someone who would like you despite the broken mess that you are.</p><p>Be confident. It's easy words to say, but a dream that is out of my reach. If only I could be like Jared and have the confidence to be outgoing because maybe then I could talk to my crush Zoe, rather than panicking when you went to see her at her jazz band concert and you were going to go up to her and act all smooth, mistaking her name so you could pretend you didn't lie awake every night dreaming what it would be like to be with someone like her. Except you didn't go up to her at all. Instead, you panicked about your hands getting sweaty, which they weren't until you started to overthink about them getting sweaty which then caused them to be sweaty. By this point, you had completely come undone and unravelled, becoming too scared to even approach her.</p><p>
  <strong>Pathetic.</strong>
</p><p>Maybe it's better to just be unseen because I've learned to slam on the break before I even turn the key before I make a mistake before I lead with the worst of me. You don't want to make a mistake or mess up in front of your longtime crush. Stay in the background, waiting to be seen. If you do so then you won't fear to make the mistake. You may fade into the background, but you won't be noticed. You'll only be seen by the people that you want to be seen by.</p><p>The noises in your head will constantly nag you with questions about what if everyone saw? What if everyone knew? Would they like what they saw, or would they hate it too? I know that all I ever do is run, but maybe one day I will be brave enough to step into the sun. One day I will be brave enough to talk to somebody, to make the connection I so desperately crave. One day I will be brave enough to step into the sun and show everybody who I am.</p><p>Until then just remain on the outside, always looking in. Remain there until you're ready to finally wave through a window. To wave and have somebody waving back at you. A friend. Somebody to catch you.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Welcome, all to this tree bros book, the first of the book I am publishing on this platform. I also have another on my Wattpad, under the same username, if you would like to check it out. I like this ship so I am very enthusiastic about writing this piece of work. I hope you enjoy it as much as I am sure I will enjoy writing it. :)<br/>- Meg</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Play with Waitress Everything changes as the bold italics are the lyrics of the song, adapted to fit and reflect how Evan is feeling.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>Today's a day like any other</em> </b>
</p><p>Try and write a letter.</p><p>
  <em>Dear Evan Hansen,</em>
</p><p>Today is going to be a good day and here's why. </p><p>That's as far as I ever get through, without spewing all of my bottled up feelings onto the page, my paranoia knowing that it could always possibly get into the wrong hands. </p><p>
  <em> <b>Nothing's changed,  I am a lover</b> </em>
</p><p>I love my mom, but I just wish she could be here more than she is. She tries to remain optimistic for me, but I know I burden her. She knows I'm unenthusiastic about the therapy, but that's because I know it doesn't help.</p><p>
  <b> <em>Oh, in an instant</em> </b>
</p><p>My eyes just constantly scan the blank document, trying to shuffle through the muddle of thoughts in my brain and pick out a single good thought to type onto the page, so I can finally have something to show Dr Sherman and not disappoint my therapist again with my negativity, or showing up empty-handed.</p><p>
  <b> <em>And oh I wish to disappear</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>To be found, by someone near</em> </b>
</p><p>But all my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don't even know and who doesn't know me. Maybe if I had the confidence to talk to her things would change, except for the fact that I know nothing would change at all. It would be a dream if she was the one to find me, bring me into the light and out of my own misery. That would only be a dream though because I know I'd never manage to build up the confidence to talk to her, it would be like the whole band scenario all over again.</p><p>
  <em> <b>And pitiful</b> </em>
</p><p>Maybe if I found someone that was like me, buried in their own misery that they were a shell of a human being, pitiful and someone that could disappear without being noticed. If I found someone like that, then maybe we could be friends and we would finally have someone to understand the way that we both were feeling.</p><p>
  <b> <em>I was lost</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Waiting to be found</em> </b>
</p><p>It's like the time I 'fell' in the forest and broke my arm, I waited around for anybody to find me and nobody did. This time when I fall in a forest, all I want is for somebody to find me.</p><p>
  <b> <em>By someone lost, or someone found</em> </b>
</p><p>If someone felt as lost of me, maybe we could drag each other out of the messes that we were in. If they were found, then they could help someone else to feel that they don't deserve to disappear.</p><p>
  <b> <em>Two big hands, a pair of eyes</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>An untold story that is mine for safekeeping</em> </b>
</p><p>Stories are my forte, my mom giving me college applications because writing is the one thing I'm good at, I just wish it wasn't the only thing.</p><p>
  <b> <em>And I will tell it with pride</em> </b>
</p><p>Maybe someday I will be able to speak freely, without my social anxiety holding me back and making me a stuttering mess.</p><p>
  <b> <em>I'd know it help those who hide, from believing</em> </b>
</p><p>I don't believe in the words I write, 'seize the day' my mom say, Dr Sherman also encouraging me to be optimistic but they don't, my optimistic words are just a cover, a mask to hide the pessimistic way that I actually feel.</p><p>"Those letters are important, honey. They're going to help you build your confidence. I know! You could go around today and ask people to sign your cast, how about that?" My mom asks, her tone enthusiastic and hopeful that I will, for once, do as she asks. If only being confident was that simple.</p><p>
  <b> <em>That they too can be found</em> </b>
</p><p>"Perfect." My tone drips with un-enthusiasm, that my mom, being so happy I agreed with her, is blinded to.</p><p>
  <b> <em>When all is lost, all is found.</em> </b>
</p><p>"I'm proud of you already." She replies, a wide smile on her face, my tone remaining flat as I mutter out an 'Oh good'.</p><p>
  <b> <em>(Everything Changes)</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I didn't know, but now I see</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>The mess I am, the mess I'll be</em> </b>
</p><p>I've always known of the mess I am, but friends like Jared make it clearer to me each day. I know the more time I spend here the worse the mess that I am creating will be. It's better to leave now. Sooner than later they say.</p><p>
  <b> <em>Believe me</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>My messy life, my broken mind</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>I'm broken. My brain doesn't work properly, it's what causes me to be unable to find the right words to say, especially in social situations. It explains why I am the mess that I am, living with social anxiety and therefore being unable to talk without almost having a panic attack.</p><p>
  <b> <em>The things you can't fix, believe me</em> </b>
</p><p>I know my mom constantly tries to fix me, but I just wish she would realise that she can't. This is who I am and it's why I need to disappear, to take the burden off her shoulders with her having to work overtime and pay for therapy that doesn't work. She thinks I can be cured, I can be fixed, no matter how many times I've told her it doesn't work. It's why she still pays for therapy and why she resists to my pleads to stop, reduce our financial stress caused by my problems.</p><p>
  <b> <em>I can't heal and I can't breathe</em> </b>
</p><p>In the situations, that trigger my social anxiety, I always feel like I can't believe. My lungs no longer pumping air into them, tightening and suffocating me so that it is so hard to breathe.</p><p>
  <b> <em>Cause I can't feel myself believe</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>(Everything changes)</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Oh my voices are loud now</em> </b>
</p><p>The constant voices in my head taunted me, telling me every little detail that is wrong with me. They tell me stuff I already know but are the feeding source that my anxiety gauges on.</p><p>
  <b> <em>And all my mistakes</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Can't be fixed even when I turn them around</em> </b>
</p><p>The whole point of mistakes is that they are supposed to be able to be crossed out so that you can't start over again. Mine always feel like they've been etched in permanent marker in the universe, unable to be erased from existence.</p><p>
  <b> <em>Everything changes</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>What I thought was so permanent scars</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>In a blink of an eye,  I wish I could change my fate (In a blink of an eye, I wish I could change my fate)</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>But I know in due time, I will no longer be in this place (But I know in due time, I will no longer be in this place)</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>So I swear I'll remember to say</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>We will both die today</em> </b>
</p><p>My life is no longer worth living, someone else is bound to die on the same day as me so at least in that sense I won't be alone.</p><p>
  <em> <b>'Cause everything's changed</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Everything changes</em> </b>
</p><p>I wish something would change for me, something that would make me feel like my life was worth living, something or someone that could maybe take my anxiety away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi all,</p><p>Credit to the song goes to the rightful owner, Sarah, but you can try singing my version if you want as I worked really hard on coming up with these lyrics so I hope you liked it!</p><p>- Meg :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The first chapter that shows Connor's point of view.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"It's your senior year, Connor. You are not missing the first day." My mom nags at me, starting the morning as badly as it goes. If I were no longer here then she wouldn't have to deal with me any longer, she could finally just focus on her perfect, golden child, Zoe. </p>
<p>I roll my eyes at her unsuccessful protests. Can she not manage to comprehend the fact that I don't want to go to school? I don't even want to be on this planet anymore, so why on earth would I want to spend my last day on earth in hell? School is hell, but I suppose home isn't much better, at least at school I don't have the parents constantly on my back. The teachers have at least left me alone after I threw that printer at the teacher in 3rd grade.</p>
<p>"I already said I'd go tomorrow." I can at least manage to agree to that, especially when I have no intention on even still being here tomorrow. I tried before and it didn't work, some part of me hoped that it was because God had a plan for me to stay alive, but his plan hasn't been made clear to me and I have had enough of waiting. I want to seize to exist.</p>
<p>"Look at him. He doesn't listen. His probably high." My eyes flicker to the time, eight in the morning and he is already on my back about the possibility of me being high. Looks like it will be the same day, after all, things never change especially with this family.</p>
<p>"He's high," Zoe cuts in, rolling her eyes at the clear excuse of a pathetic being that I am. She doesn't need to tell me that though, I already know. Zoe is the perfect child, the one constant of attention. Well, at least she used to be. Ever since I got kicked out of school, for using drugs, my parents have been more vigilant of my action, depriving her of attention. I know she resents me for it, but I never asked for this. I never asked for any of this. </p>
<p>I never wanted to exist, especially in a family where my parents constantly nag me and my sister is scared of me, especially when I'm high, but it isn't just drugs that affect my actions, it is also my bipolar. They don't know I have it, well at least they won't admit I have it. My mom especially wants us to keep up the facade that we are the perfect family, which means, of course, mental health issues aren't a thing in her eyes, it's something she wants to ignore like they seize to exist, the way that I wish she could pretend to see me. I want to seize to exist, but I am still here.</p>
<p>"Fuck you," I spit out harshly, annoyed by her accusations. I can tolerate my parents, but her words hurt more. I wish for more than anything for us two to go back to the way we once one when we hung out as siblings do.</p>
<p>"No. Fuck you." Zoe's response, causes her to be glared at by my parents, a look just telling her to shut up. She crosses her arms, in a huff and I try to hide the slight smirk on my lips. I can at least get away with swearing in this household, because despite my mom's repeated efforts to get me to stop I continued to do it anyway, so much so that they've just stopped arguing with me about it, completely giving up with trying to stop me from doing it. </p>
<p>"I don't want you going to school high, Connor." I try to refrain a laugh, she still doesn't get the memo.</p>
<p>"Perfect. So then I won't go. Thanks, mom." I lift my head from the table, leaving the table and heading up to my room. I wish it was that easy to not go to school, but it will be better if I give in and do because at least it'll be better for getting my mom off my back, at least for a while. </p>
<p>"I better head out. If Connor's not ready, I'm leaving without him." I'm thankful Zoe still gives me a lift to school, my parents took away my license after the second time I managed to damage their car, driving under the influence of weed can make you do that. It's useful having a ride, but the whole journey is just filled with an uncomfortable silence, neither one of us ever speaking up to break it. I wish I could talk to her, confide in her like I once could. However, there now stands a tall, invisible wall that is lodged between us, neither one of us willing to climb over it to attempt to speak to the other, to get back to the way we once were.</p>
<p>I always try to keep the fire of hope in my heart lit with the hope that one day I and Zoe could get back to normal. It is a fire that is still burning, but it will be extinguished when I end my life. I know in doing so I will be destroying any hope that I had off rekindling our relationship because I will no longer be here. This is a world that I am tired of living in, without actually feeling like I am living in. The world depresses me and makes me feel like I am in an endless cycle of torture, with no escape other than to no longer exist.</p>
<p>There will always be things in life we regret, opportunities that we never seized to take and may always regret not having done so. Maybe, this will be my one regret in life. Not fixing my relationship with Zoe when I had the chance, whilst I was still alive. It will be something I regret, a regret that I plan to take to the grave with me. With so much to regret though, the reasons to stay alive is like an empty bag, the reasons to die being one that pushes me down to the ground by the weight on my shoulders. </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I'm sorry Zoe and I wish you could know that. I wish you could know how much I love you...</em>
  </b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>My life isn't normal.</em> </b>
</p><p>No matter how much I wish it could be my life will never be normal. Having social anxiety is one thing that sets me out from the crowd, but the other is that I'm not noticed. Is it normal to be unnoticed? I feel like it isn't, why do we exist in a world if all we do is go unnoticed by everyone else in the world around us.  I'll never be normal because I don't have a dad, I don't have friends and I don't have a mom. I do have a mom, but she's never here. once again she priorities her career over me, but at the same time, she also does it for me. </p><p>Maybe if I was normal she wouldn't have to. There would be no more need for therapy, no more her worrying about the fact that I don't have any friends and no more worrying about the fact that any catalytic action could send me plummeting into a spiralling panic attack. If I was normal, all of our problems could just disappear. Once again though, those are just dreams, wishes that will never happen. Maybe if I was normal I wouldn't want to disappear.</p><p>Perhaps if I got a friend, at least one friend I would feel closer to being normal. A person that I could rely on to call my friend, without them contradicting and correcting me that we are fact in not friends, causing me to panic about making assumptions and more aware of what I say. Jared is like that. Having another friend would mean I wouldn't have to bother Jared with my presence, he could just text me and I will still tell his mom that he was nice to me so that his car insurance can be paid. At least I have him for now, there's someone I can talk to besides the one person that talks to everyone, Alana, but doesn't seem to call people 'friends' but more so 'acquaintances'. </p><p>Maybe I'm not normal, because is it normal to believe that the one family friend in your life could change? That maybe despite all their taunts, they still care?</p><p>"How does it feel to be the first person in to break your arm from jerking off too much, or do you consider that an honour?" Jared's voice taunts at me. He at least noticed, he at least cares enough to ask, or am I just delusional?</p><p>"That. That isn't  what happened." My protests seem to fall on deaf ears, Jared seeming to think everything is sex-related.</p><p>"Yeah right. I can see it now, Zoe Murphy's Instagram pulled up on your phone." Ah yes, Zoe Murphy the girl I've been obsessing over and not even talking to.</p><p>"That's not. That's not what happened. I feel out of a tree." His face seems to flicker with shock before it lights up in a childish amusement, his taunt about me being an acorn seemingly being the funniest thing to him. I must be delusional to think that, even for a second, maybe he cared. Maybe we could be more than 'family friend', or maybe I could mean more to him than someone he is again burdened to talk to just for the sake of his parents paying his car insurance.</p><p>Yet, I can be thankful that at least I am not the only person who isn't normal in this school. There is someone else that walks past, distracting Jared's attention from me. That is at least until Jared opens his mouth to comment. Jared and his running mouth, that never seems to connect to his brain before he speaks, is never a good thing. It often lands him in trouble or more bad situations than good.</p><p>"Hey, Connor. Loving the new hair, very school shooter chic." How does he know this guys name? My eyes flicker over the guy before us, his long brown hair shielding half of his face from the world. It's luscious, beautiful hair and if away from hiding myself from the world is by growing my hair out long, sign me up.</p><p>His persona seems very rugged, intimidating but a fake persona at that. Someone who likes me seems broken, hiding under a tough mask that he puts up to protect him from the taunts. I guess someone, as broken as myself, can recognise the people in the world who are as broken.</p><p>"Oh no, funny." He replies, his expression remaining flat. I try not to snicker, his sarcasm being amusing to me and even more so because it causes Jared to become speechless, something I've never been able to do before. It makes me in awe.</p><p>"I'm laughing, can't you tell?" His voice gets louder though, as he gets closer to Jared. I gulp, the volume of his voice making me begin to feel scared. Maybe he has anger issues or some mental health condition that causes him to act this way. I'm not perfect so I shouldn't try and judge a book by its cover. I shouldn't try to judge him before I know him. I shouldn't be scared of somebody I don't know.</p><p>Then it clicks.</p><p>Wait. I do know him. This is Connor Murphy, Zoe's brother. He is also the person who threw a printer at a teacher, I can't remember which one though, in 3rd grade. I barely recognise him, his nails are painted black, his outfit matching, with his hair more grown out. He looks slender, good in fact.</p><p>My attention gets turned back to the situation at hand when I realise in my daydream I awkwardly let out an unconscious chuckle. Connor's harsh tone had now been turned to me, Jared unsurprisingly having left me to be fed by the wolf.</p><p>"What are you laughing at?" His hardened gaze burns through me, causing me to try and hunch myself into my top, shrinking into it and hoping to dissapear. Anytime that I complained about not being seen, this time I wish I hadn't been. His harsh voice and the fact that I am the one subject of his anger, makes me want the earth to swallow me up whole.</p><p>No matter how much I try to stutter out my defence, I somehow get pushed onto the floor where I belong, one again being called something I already know. A freak. That's all I'll ever be, even to somebody who seems to be unknown like me. I'm on the ground, once again like at Ellison Park, but the strange thing is I don't want to get up. I just want to stay on the floor and seize to exist. Why can't I just dissapear?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Another chapter in Connor's point of view.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Why did I push him?</strong>
</p>
<p>Stupid bipolar disorder. My moods change so quickly, no matter how much I wish I had control over it I don't. I never really will.</p>
<p>I walked away, my mood changing as soon as my flash of anger had surpassed. I just felt guilty now. There was no reason for me to push him. Yes, he laughed, but maybe he wasn't laughing at me. That possibility seems highly unlikely though. The resting look on his face on the floor though is now carved into my brain, the helpless look of someone that like me was alone in a world that was out to get them. The look of someone that was about to cry or the hope that the ground could open up and swallow them whole. He looked like how I felt constantly. Was it possible that I had finally found someone like me? I didn't know who he was, but yet his eyes seemed to flash with fear.</p>
<p>If he didn't know who I was the jerk Jared Kleinman, told him exactly who I was, reinforcing the typical teasing that I am subject to every day. the typical name-calling of 'freak', 'druggy' and 'school shooter-chic' seeming to be the only words in peoples dictionary, especially when it comes to me. If there was any reason I didn't want to be here anymore the name-calling would be towards the bottom of my endless list. I've gotten used to the taunts by now, but I still wish that someone could see behind the labels that people give me and look deep enough to uncover the real me.</p>
<p>*After School*</p>
<p>My long strides are filled with frustration as I roughly throw my bag over my shoulder, my fist curling up into a ball in frustration. Of course, the teacher gives me homework in the last lesson for the next day that I can only print off in the library, especially after my parents took away all my technology thinking it would somehow be a suitable punishment for using drugs. </p>
<p>My body slumps into the computer chair, thankful for once that my eyes glance around the computer room to see it empty. That is until my eyes catch a strand of browny, blonde hair and a blue polo shirt that I place to be the one worn by the guy that I pushed over this morning.</p>
<p>I breathe out a sigh of frustration, my conscious pushing me to do the right thing and fix this. My steps are hesitant, but I approach him once he gets to the printer.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," I say my voice coming out with a sincere tone, one that has a hidden vulnerability to show my general sincerity and guilt. it's a tone that even shocks myself.</p>
<p>He jumps round in alarm, scared that I am behind him. I can't be annoyed that he seems scared of me, especially after the fact that I pushed him over this morning.</p>
<p>Sweat rolls down his forehead, his hands brushing down his khakis, a nervous habit that I've noticed he seems to have. I don't comment on it knowing that it's not good to point out other people's flaws, especially when I know how much your mind can be your worst critic for the flaws you possess. </p>
<p>"What?" His voice comes out shocked, seeming to check that he hadn't misheard me because with my reputation it isn't expected for me to apologise and I never really do, yet something about him made me seem to feel compelled to apologise and make it up to him.</p>
<p>"You don't-" He stutter out, wiping his hands more. "You don't need to apologise." So he stutters? Fitting, social anxiety. I can recognise when I see it, but yet why does he seem to make a stutter seem cute. The way his cheeks are flushed from sweating too much, plus his small figure against mine just makes him radiate with a sweetness about him. It's just myself being gay though, man I'm lonely. His sweet to say I don't need to apologise to him, I know I do. Yet I decide to change the topic.</p>
<p>"So, how did you break your arm?" He seems to shift, his mood instantly darkening and this makes me wonder what he did. He went from seemingly happy to sombre, almost like I touched on a nerve that he isn't comfortable to touch on.</p>
<p>"I fell out of a tree." He mumbles, the softness of his voice making it hard for me to almost catch what he was saying. Maybe the sombre expression that I thought glaze his eyes was one of embarrassment, it wouldn't surprise me with that lame way of breaking your arm, an opinion I have no problem voicing to him.</p>
<p>"You fell out of a tree? That's the saddest f**cking thing I've ever heard." </p>
<p>He lets out a faint chuckle, one I can tell is fake but one that he is putting on to try and show his agreement. My eyes stay focused on the cast, noticing that it's empty. He doesn't have any friends to sign his cast?</p>
<p>"Nobody's signed your cast," I state. His eyes gaze down to his cast, a slight frown etching onto his face, his voice showing his evident sadness as he mutters out an 'I know'.</p>
<p>I don't know what possessed me to speak the next words that come out of my mouth, but yet my mind doesn't seem to be in control of my mouth or my actions. </p>
<p>"I'll sign it for you." He tries to protest against me doing so, but yet I sign my name big across the cast, at least that way we can both pretend we have friends. He seems broken, maybe we could both be friends if I wasn't so tired of this world, not planning to stay here any longer than I need to be.</p>
<p>I notice the paper he left on the printer, picking it up to have an excuse to talk to him longer. This is the longest social interaction that I've had with someone in a while and I didn't realise my desperate need for it.</p>
<p>"Is this yours?" I ask, pushing the letter towards him. He seems to get even more nervous about this letter. My curiosity struggles to get a hold of me, but I find myself handing it back to him before I can let myself be forced to read it when it is something private. He may not want me to see it, maybe because it has something about me on it. Yet, I'm used to reading stuff about me so I feel immune to being hurt now.</p>
<p>He mutters out a 'thank you'. I try to stop the small smile that lifts the corner of my mouth. </p>
<p>"Well, I guess I will see you around..." I pause realising I don't know his name.</p>
<p>"Evan Hansen." He says, without a stutter.</p>
<p>"See you around Hansen," I say, leaving the room and heading to the orchard. My last words to someone, but I won't see them around. I never plan to see anyone around because I'm finally ending my life...</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Evan's POV</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Why did he give me the letter back?</strong>
</p><p>He didn't have to, he could have written it and gotten mad for it mentioning Zoe. Yet, he didn't read it. Maybe he was actually concerned about invading, my privacy, he doesn't seem the type that would be, but maybe appearances can be deceiving.</p><p>If anyone shouldn't be one to make a snap judgement about someone it should be me.</p><p>Yet, I wondered around the sidewalk, walking a longer, more scene route home to try and reduce the cloud of thoughts that rattle through my head.</p><p>His voice seemed frail when he wished me goodbye, something about the way he said that made a hint of a lie in his tone. My eyes stayed trained on the door for a while before I departed the computer room, my gut telling me to chase after him and tell him that we didn't have to pretend to be friends like he suggested. Maybe we could be actual friends, if I wasn't so socially anxious to even suggest being friends with someone. If it wasn't for Jared, no matter how much he protested that we weren't actually friends just family friends, the word 'friend' would seem foreign to me.</p><p>Although I decide to take the scenic route, my actions are controlled by my gut. The route that I am taking isn't one that I have just chose to stroll along because of the view, but one I unconsciously made the decision to stroll along so that I could follow Connor. The path that I had taken was the exact route that Connor had gone down.</p><p>The unsettling feeling in my stomach made me feel like he was going to do something he may regret, something similar to what I, myself, did that lonesome day during summer break at Ellison Park.</p><p>For once I don't protest against my feet's actions, knowing that even if my gut is wrong, I could possibly catch up to him and maybe tell him my true feelings. The fact that I feel like me and him could actually form a friendship, one where we wouldn't have to pretend.</p><p>I notice an abandoned orchard in front of me, the gates covered with overgrown leaves like an entrance to a horror movie setting. He slips through the bars, myself following him. For once my thoughts don't cloud my judgement, I have no time to worry about getting caught, about the possible jail time I may face for trespassing, or even the fact that I am technically breaking and entering. My focus remains on Connor and what he is about to do.</p><p>A barricade of bushes, however block my site, myself managing to loose sight of Connor. This is when my anxiety finally spikes up, worrying about where he had gone and even worse what he could possibly be doing.</p><p>Each step I take, is one laced with worry.. My eyes continue to frantically search for him, the orchard being bigger that it looked from the outside. What feels like hours, but is only a couple of minutes, I see a figure dressed in all black hunched over against a tree. They look completely still, peaceful almost. Trust me to have to disrupt that, but the clothing is a style that I can recognise from even far away, it's Connor.</p><p>My feet instantly quicken into a sprint as I race over to his side, my hand cupping his face, which has become a deathly pale colour. My fingers instantly fumble to find the place on his neck to check his pulse, thankful that my moms raving about her job, thankfully helping me in this situation.</p><p>My body instantly relaxes, a sight of relief escaping my lips as I feel a faint pulse. It's slowing down, but it's still evident. He still has a chance to live.</p><p>Fumbling with my pocked, my hands gets out my phone, nearly dropping it out of my grip as they begin to shake.</p><p>"911, what's your emergency?" The operator on the other line says. Even though my anxiety peaks at the sound of another voice on the other end, I know I need to save Connor's life.</p><p>"Hello. I need an ambulance please. My friend has overdosed, I'm at the orchard on Lower's Lane. Please get here as soon as you can." For once I don't stutter, thankful that for once in my life I managed to get out a coherent sentence when it was most needed. Connor may still have a chance to live, because of me. It may not be a chance he wants, but I learnt from trying to take my own life that no one deserves to disappear, he shouldn't feel like he deserves to either.</p><p>It may have been presumptions to refer to us as friends, but if him trying to commit suicide shows me anything is that we are both broken messes that needed saving, maybe he is the person that can save me and I him. Maybe we both need to save each other, be broken messes that could put each other back together.</p><p>Maybe he is the friend I have been hoping for, with us both desperately needing a friend. For once I can't let my anxiety get in the way of what I need to do for Connor. I need to save him and hopefully in doing so, save myself. I need to be the friend he never knew he needed, then hopefully he can be the friend that I desperately need...</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ambulance seems to arrive in no time, the paramedics rushing to Connor's side and exchanging a lot of paramedic terms between each other, ones that I barely catch and only roughly gain the grasp on what they are talking about. Most of it is like a foreign language, medical terminology that I don't understand, but some words I catch and understand from the basic terminology that I have learnt to understand from my mom.</p><p>The next thing I know they are placing Connor on a stretcher, due to his lifeless state. They turn to me with their look serious and concentrated.</p><p>"Do you want to travel in the ambulance with him?" They ask and I nod my head, barely able to form a sentence due to my mouth has gone dry with worry. My only thoughts where on Connor and my hope that he would be okay.</p><p>My hand stays entwined with Connor's, grasping it for a sense of comfort. I stoke his hand up and down, knowing the simple rubbing of a thumb on a hand is a sensation that can provide some sense of comfort, well that would be if he could feel it anyway. He remained unconscious, but the paramedics were trying to do as much as they could to keep his situation from decreasing to any worse than it currently was.</p><p>"Do you know what happened?" The paramedic finally turns to ask once we have begun our journey to the hospital, for once in my life I am thankful that the orchard isn't too far from the hospital.</p><p>"He took some pills, I don't know what type. He always walks around alone, I think he suffers from depression. He was probably having suicidal thoughts." My stuttering manages to be kept at bay, the paramedic coding, thankful that I had managed to at least relay some vital information to him that could help them figure out Connor's situation.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>He needs help.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Yet, I am not one to talk. I can only tell from glances that he is likely to suffer from depression, myself suffering from depressive episodes from time to time. I guess what people say is true, it takes one to know one. I'm not sure if that applies to this situation though, but I feel like it does.</p><p>My hand in his though make me feel like I am providing him with a sense of comfort, even if he can't feel it. It would provide him with a sense of something I hadn't felt before, a feeling like someone was there for him, that someone cared for him and that he was someone that didn't deserve to feel forgotten. I was there for him, we didn't really know each other but yet we were connected, both broken pieces that were without friends and could just disappear. We needed to show each other that neither of us deserved to dissapear.</p><p>Even if he couldn't make me feel that way, being the lost cause that I am, I could at least try and make him feel this way until I made sure that he was alive.</p><p>Before I know it, we reach the hospital. The paramedics roll out the stretcher, leading it to a room. I see my mom working on the desk, her eyes widening when she looks up to see me.</p><p>"Evan, what are you doing here?" She asks, a sense of worry evident in her voice. She cups my face, checking over me for any signs of injury. Her expression becomes one of confusion, her eyebrows knitting together as she realises that there are no injuries on my face. "Did you need something honey?" She then asks, wondering why else I would be here if I haven't injured myself.</p><p>Pulling back, her eyes seem to rail my arm, noticing that my hand was grasped in another hand, belonging to the injured person. I can see her mind formulating with questions, but they aren't ones she has time to ask.</p><p>"Nurse Hiedi, can you take the patient to get his stomach pumped, please. He overdosed and needs an urgent pumping of his stomach before his stomach begins to ingest the toxins released from the medicine he took." The paramedic states, pushing the stretcher to my mom, a group of nurses coming behind her to help assess the patient.</p><p>"A friend of yours Evan?" She asks, looking up at my eyes with some evident sympathy in them. If I had any friends, my mom would definitely pity me having to witness them in that situation.</p><p>"He's a person that attends my school, his name is Connor Murphy," I state. My mom notices my lack of stuttering, but her eyes still hold a sense of proudness despite the hint of worry that she has for her new patient.</p><p>They begin to push him towards the correct ward unit, my hand slipping out of his grasp. Before he goes out of sight, I shout out to my mom.</p><p>"Try to save him, please." My voice comes out frail, almost like I am choking back a sob. My eyes are laced with worry, I hate to see another person in this state.</p><p>My mom nods, her voice mulling a "We'll try our best" before her and the other nurses push him into, what I can only assume, to be the operation room.</p><p>I take a seat on the chair, the designated area outside the room that they have just taken Connor into. My hand fiddles with the cast on my arm, picking at the lining bandage on it, my hands occasionally rubbing the sweat down my khakis. My forehead feels like it is dripping in sweat, my leg also bouncing in agitation. </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>I can't stay still.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Every part of me is fueled with a sense of worry, my body craving to pace back and forth to try and eager my anxiety, but I know it won't help. All I need to try and do it be patient.</p><p>
  <em><strong>Evan:</strong> I'm at the hospital.</em>
</p><p>I text Jared, knowing that it is not the best decision, especially considering how unsupportive he is about everything, but it helps me to at least get my mind off Connor and his well-being, for the time being.</p><p>
  <em><strong>Jared:</strong> Why? Did you fall from another tree, acorn?</em>
</p><p>He asks and I can't help but roll my eyes. Of course, that's what he would ask? </p><p>
  <em><strong>Evan:</strong> No, I'm here for Connor. He overdosed at the park.</em>
</p><p>I don't know why I told him, but I suppose some part of me hoped he would console him.</p><p>
  <em><strong>Jared:</strong> Not surprised, he always looked like death walking, it's no surprise he probably suffered from depression as well and finally decided to rid the world of his presence. I would probably want to kill myself if I was him too.</em>
</p><p>
  <em><strong>Evan:</strong> Jared, that's mean.</em>
</p><p>
  <em><strong>Jared:</strong> Not mean, just honest.</em>
</p><p>I tuck my phone back in my pocket, having enough of Jared's comments for one day.</p><p>When I look up, I spot my mom taking her gloves off as she exits the room. Instantly, I jump up out of my seat.</p><p>"How is he?" My tone comes out worried, but I don't know why I am so worried about Connor's state, it's not even like we're friends.</p><p>"We managed to get the harmful toxins out of his system before it damaged his health." She says, a smile instantly etching onto my face as my heart wells with relief, her words being like music to my ears.</p><p>"I'm going to contact his family to know what he tried to do, they need to know he needs help." I try to argue with my mom, knowing myself that offering help isn't always the best method, especially if the person doesn't want it. Her duties as a nurse though wouldn't allow her to neglect her duty to notify his parents on the fact that he tried to commit suicide, so I save my breath.</p><p>"You can go in and visit him whilst I contact them." She says, shifting her head to point towards the room that he is. I smile at my mom, thanking her. Once I reach the room though, my hand lingers on the door handle. My anxiety begins to kick in, not knowing what he may think about me being here.</p><p>"I can see your shadow from here you know." His voice comes out weak, but still intimidating.</p><p>I open the door, throwing a weak smile as I enter the room. </p><p>"Why did you save me, Hansen?" He asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.</p><p>"You looked like you needed saving," I stated, the truth evident in my words. He needed saving, but not from suicide. He needed saving from himself, from his thoughts, from his own loneliness. He needed saving and I believe I can be the person to save him if he only lets me try...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wish I could say things went back to normal, but how can things ever go back to normal after you save someone from committing suicide?</p>
<p>I had stayed in his hospital room, holding his hand in comfort. He seemed to have been left speechless after my comment, silence drawing over us two. He just seemed to lie on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, with the quiet air allowing me to hear his breathing. Although it was a bit of awkward silence, it gave me a sense of relief that I could hear his breathing. At least he wasn't dead.</p>
<p>After a while, I heard his slow breathing turn into a few quiet little snores, one that you wouldn't be able to hear if it wasn't for the silence hanging in the air. My eyes instantly trailed over to his sleeping figure, seeing that he had curled up into a ball on his side, his body facing mine. My eyes trailed to his face, the scrunched up eyebrows, but the overall peaceful feeling he had whilst sleeping was plastered onto his face. He looked cute when he slept.</p>
<p>My gaze is torn away all too quickly as I hear a knock on the door. I get up from my chair, opening it slightly to stick my head out of the door. In front of me stands a more middle-aged looking women, with reddish hair, a line of worry creasing up her brow.</p>
<p>"Hi, are you one of Connor's friends? I wasn't aware he had company." She says, trying to replace her worry with a smile of friendliness. Her smile instantly relaxed me.</p>
<p>"Umm no. We aren't friends. Umm..." I fiddle with my hands, stepping completely out of the room to have a proper conversation with her, without waking up Connor. I couldn't seem to find the words to say what we were. Are we friends now, acquainted or just strangers?</p>
<p>"I'm just the guy that found him in the park. I know him from school, so I decided to stay with him until someone arrived." I smile warily, not sure why I am relaying this information to the woman in front of me, especially as I don't know who she is. I suppose her persona just gives off a radiant friendly vibe.</p>
<p>My body instantly tenses as I feel some arms wrap around me, squeezing me in a tight tug. I feel awkward, but eventually feel my body relaxing into the hug, placing my hands on the back of her shoulders until she pulls away.</p>
<p>"Thank you, you saved my son." She says, a tear slipping down her cheek. Oh, she's Connor's mother.</p>
<p>"Is he awake?" Her eyes trail behind me, trying to catch a glimpse of Connor.</p>
<p>"He's just sleeping, but I'm sure he'll want you by his side when he wakes up again." I begin to fidget, shifting my weight across my feet. I point towards the exit. "Umm, I should probably- I should probably get going. I said I'd only stay until a family member arrived and you're here now so..." I trail off, seeing a sense of desperation in her eyes.</p>
<p>"Yeah, so I'm just gonna go," I mumble, my feet beginning to move to escape this situation.</p>
<p>"Wait." Her hand grasps my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.</p>
<p>"He will probably want to see you too when he wakes up." Her eyes look pleading, but I try to protest.</p>
<p>"He won't- We're not, we're not close." I stutter, trying to protest against her pleads.</p>
<p>"Please." Her eyes look tearful, begging me to stay. My heart reaches out to her and I can't help but sigh, giving in to her pleads.</p>
<p>"Okay." Her face instantly lights up, a smile replacing her sad expression. How can someone change personality so quickly?</p>
<p>"Thank you." She says once again and I can't help but etch a weak smile. I feel like my thanks are wrongfully placed, but even if I tried to protest I feel like she wouldn't listen...</p>
<p>
  <strong>Connor's P.O.V</strong>
</p>
<p>"Ugh." I groan, stretching my arms as I wake up from my sleep. Rubbing my head, I try and adjust to the bright light of the hospital room.</p>
<p>My eyes search the room as I sit up in my bed, feeling slightly panicked when I notice the now empty bed by my bedside. Where did Evan go?</p>
<p>Why do I even care where he has gone? I shouldn't care, we aren't friends? Then again if we're not friends, why did he save me?</p>
<p>"So can you tell me what happened to Connor?" I hear a voice ask outside the door, my ears training into it further, trying to recognise who the voice belongs to.</p>
<p>"I think it's his place to tell you, Mrs.Murphy." I hear a timid voice reply. Ah, that's Evan.</p>
<p>"Call me Cynthia." She says, myself rolling her eyes. She always prefers to be called Cynthia, thinking it'll make her seem cooler or younger, but it doesn't.</p>
<p>"Umm okay, Mrs.Murphy - I mean Cynthia." I chuckle at his correcting of himself. It's cute that he is so nervous to talk to my Mom.</p>
<p>"So tell me about you and Connor then, how did you meet?" She presses further, making me feel sorry for the poor boy. If my body wasn't still too weak, I would open up the door and save him from my mother.</p>
<p>"He pushed me." He says, before retracting his statement. "Umm but it was my fault, I bumped into him, so he accidentally pushed me on the floor." He covers, rambling quickly to try and cover the truth. Why is he protecting me by lying to my mother? He isn't what I expected him to be like.</p>
<p>"He then returned my letter to me, I thought that was nice of him." His voice seems to change, holding a sense of admiration in it? No, that can't be right. Why would someone admire me?</p>
<p>"So if you aren't a friend, would you want to be friends?" My mom asks. Involuntarily my breath hitches, wanting to sit in complete silence so that I can hear his answer.</p>
<p>"Yeah." He replies almost instantly, myself shocked by how instinctive his response felt. "That isn't my decision though, it's Connor's," I think about what he says. He wants to be friends with me, why would he want to be friends with me?</p>
<p>Do I want to be friends with Evan though? I suppose I did always say I want to have a friend.</p>
<p>"I'm sure he will, you seem like a sweet boy. You'll do him some good." I feel like I should be offended at my mother's words, but I think them through. He is sweet, a goody goody, with his personality being the complete opposite to me. Yet, he seems as broken as I am, someone that is alone and needs a friend. Maybe we would be a good influence on each other, the friend that we both felt like we needed.</p>
<p>At that moment I make my mind up, I want to be friends with Evan Hansen, even if I can't believe it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I pretend to be asleep, hearing the fiddle of the doorknob and the voices murmuring down. I can tell they are coming back in, so I pretend that I didn't hear any of their conversations.</p><p>It is only when I hear someone plop into the seat next to my bedside that I pretend to be waking up, yawning and stretching my arms to make it more believable. </p><p>"Hi sweetie," my mo says with a genuine smile on her face and care evident in her voice. "How are you feeling?" She asks, cares evident in her voice. </p><p>"I'm good." The words slip out of my mouth almost instinctively and for once it doesn't feel like it is a lie, I feel good and that feeling alone shocks me to my core. My mom almost seems to sense that there is no hidden sarcasm in my voice or denial of how I'm doing, she seems to believe that for once I am telling the truth.</p><p>My eyes trail over to the other side of the room, noticing Evan standing there and awkwardly staring down at the floor. He is as quiet as a mouse, almost like you wouldn't know he was there unless I decided to look over.</p><p>"Can you give me and Evan a moment please, mom?" She seems shocked that I called her mom, it's the first time I've done that in a while. Tears seem to brim in her eyes, but she tries not to let her defences down, opening the floodgate to the rest of the tears that will fall like a waterfall if she opens the damn up to even a single tear.</p><p>"Sure honey." Her lips kiss my forehead as she leaves, Evan seeming to be more agitated now that she's left.</p><p>"Evan." My voice comes out slightly nervous, a strange feeling for me. However, it seems since Evan has saved me, and in some weird way tumbled into my life unexpectedly, I've been feeling a lot of strange feelings.</p><p>"I want to be friends." My voice comes out plain and simple, showing my seriousness. There is no sarcastic remark, no hidden meaning and no lying involved. For once my statement is filled with a complete sense of truth.</p><p>His eyes instantly snap up to meet my own. "What?" He asks, seeming to check that he heard me right.</p><p>"I want to be friends," I say again. "You and me, we're just the losers that have been waiting to be seen right? I mean no one seems to care or stops to notice that we're there, so we get lost in the in-between." His eyes seem to gloss over, his gaze trailing back to the floor as he hangs his head down. That gives me all the confirmation I need to know that he feels the same. "We both feel like we could disappear, that we could fade away. I feel like we are both broken, but we need to teach each other that neither one of us deserves to disappear." I finish my confession, surprised by the amount of weight that I feel as though has been lifted off my shoulders. It feels good to tell someone the way I feel, knowing that deep down they understand you and feel the same way as you do.</p><p>"Okay." He mutters.</p><p>"Just okay?" I repeat, disappointed that he doesn't seem overjoyed or anything.</p><p>"No I want to be friends - believe me I do - it's just that I'm in shock that someone like you would want to be friends with me. You're cool and I'm just me." He shrugs his shoulders, defeated looking. </p><p>"Evan, look at me," I say, his eyes looking almost tearful as he lifts them back from the floor to meet my gaze. "Evan you are one of the sweetest guys I have ever met and quite cute." I immediately try to retract my statement, it falling out of my mouth before I can stop it. My face instantly reddens. </p><p>"You think I'm cute?" His eyes shine, almost like they're full of hope. I want to so badly take my comment back, but seeing his eyes beaming I find myself unable to do so, not willing to see that look, that he holds in his eyes, disappear. </p><p>"Umm...yeah." I stutter out, almost kicking myself for doing so. I'm Connor Murphy I should not be stuttering, especially over a guy like Evan.</p><p>"We'll think you're cute too - oh wait not cute, that's wrong - hot, yeah you're hot." He says, almost like he's arguing with himself over which term is best to describe me. This is a strange thing to notice, no one has ever had more than one option of how to describe me positively, there's a whole bucket load when it comes to negative adjectives to describe me, but never positive.</p><p>"You're something else, Hansen," I say, a slight smile on my face. I try not to let it show, only slightly lifting the corner of my mouth.</p><p>"You're something else too, Murphy." My smile can't help but get a little bit further as he taunts back at me, referring to me also by my last name. I don't know why we do, but it almost feels like this is part of our newfound friendship. Maybe it's a step up from calling each other by our first names, nicknames until we become close enough to feel like we could use nicknames.</p><p>The truth is tough, he is something else, really and truly something else...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm starting up a musical rp chat on discord if anyone wants to join. If you do the link is: https://discord.gg/sJrrxdq</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Once Connor gets out of the hospital and things return back to normal, but with one slight difference.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once the doctors and nurses had checked over my vitals, to make sure that my body had fully gotten the chemicals out of my system, I was free to leave the hospital. With the advice of the hospital, my mom had finally agreed to provide me with some medical drugs for depression and against the wishes of larry, some therapy.</p><p>I was surprised that upon the day of my release, everyone was there. My mom, my sister, my dad, but also Evan. I couldn't help but smile, no matter how much I tried to fight it. Evan seemed to be almost part of the family, chatting with everyone in my family, even my dad. My dad looked at him almost like he had another son, I suppose I should feel jealous. Yet, I was just glad my dad at least had someone to play catch with, especially as I had gathered Evan's may have an absent father figure due to his avoidance of mentioning his father.</p><p>"How are you feeling?" Evan asked me. I had to admit it felt nice having a friend, even though Evan said he didn't know how to be a friend, not having many before, he was sure doing a good job of it. He had made sure to visit me every day in the hospital, his face is even more excited than my moms when I told him the news about my discharge.</p><p>"I'm fine, you don't have to keep asking me." I groaned. I appreciated his concern, but the relentless checking if I was okay, was beginning to get on my nerves.</p><p>"Sorry, I'm just worried," Evan says, looking down at the floor. I sigh, hating the way that my insides seem to react to his emotions. They desperately want to run over and comfort him, hug him or something.</p><p>"I know you are Evan," I lift his chin to make his eyes gaze into my own. "I appreciate your concern, but I've had everyone today asking me how I am and I just want a break from it you know?"</p><p>Evan nods his head in understanding, quietening down and not asking any more questions. I appreciate it, him being here is enough.</p><p>"So are you excited to go back to school tomorrow Evan?" My mom asks, our interaction letting her know that I wasn't particularly in the mood to engage in conversation right now.</p><p>Evan fiddled with his hands. "Umm sure, I guess." He still stuttered around my family occasionally but seemed to be getting less anxious when talking to them. "I'm glad that Connor is at least going to be with me tomorrow," Evan slightly smiles. I turn around and try to hide my slight smile, it's nice to know someone will appreciate my presence. </p><p>A groan escapes my lips though. "I don't want to go to school." My mom's attention immediately snaps to me, a motherly glare etching onto her features.</p><p>"You are not missing another day of school, Connor," she says, crossing her arms across her chest. "Plus you have a friend now to hang around the school with, surely it won't be that bad." Her eyes flicker to Evan, signalling that's the friend she is on about, not like I have any others.</p><p>I guess school may not be so bad now that I have Evan to hang out with.</p><p>"Why don't you ask Zoe to pick Evan up on the way to school so you don't have to go alone?" She leans in closer to me as she makes the suggestion, careful to not let the others hear us.</p><p>"I guess," I mutter. She pulls back, a smile on her face.</p><p>"Zoe." I groan out, knowing it's better to ask her to know before my mom posters me to do so.</p><p>"Yes?" She replies nonchalantly. Right, still not friends. She still hates me.</p><p>"Can Evan have a lift tomorrow?" I ask, despite it going against my pride. I demand, never ask.</p><p>"I don't - I don't need a lift. I'm fine walking to school." Evan stammers out, but I ignore him, my gaze pinned on Zoe.</p><p>"Yeah, sure." She shrugs, looking at Evan before looking back at me. "I'm not doing this for you though, I am only doing it because Evan seems nice and I don't want you to fuck up your friendship with your only friend so soon."</p><p>"Zoe!" My mom says, but I can't help but crack a small smile at Zoe's words.</p><p>Despite me feeling like she doesn't I can tell she still cares for me, even if it is only a little. It is still there, the care for her brother.</p><p>"Understood, " I reply to Zoe, not letting her see the slight smile on my face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a new day at school.</p><p>It felt strange, knowing that when I went into school today I would have someone to talk to.</p><p>Yet, I was still scared. I don't know why, but I was scared.</p><p>Maybe, I wasn't sure how Connor would act. I know he said that we were friends, but maybe my anxiety made me feel like he wouldn't admit that. I felt like he wouldn't want to be seen with me around the school, which I wouldn't blame him for. I always stay in the shadows because I don't want to be seen, so I don't know why someone like him would want to be seen with me. Especially seeing as Jared never does.</p><p>It still meant that I lingered at the door, my hand scared to open up the doors and enter the school. Again, I was only a doors width away from the school's hallway. Yet, it felt like that hallways went on forever. </p><p>I had to open the door, I couldn't be late and I had to collect my books before my first class.</p><p>With a shaking hand, I opened the door, the corridor seems like normal. There were just a series of eyes that I felt like were looking at me, even though they weren't. Everyone seemed to be with friends, having someone to talk to. Meanwhile, I just tried to shrink into my shirt and disappear from people's gaze.</p><p>Yet there was a figure standing by my locker and it made me feel like everything was okay, like somebody had come to get me. </p><p>"Hi." My words came out weak, almost in shock that he was here. He was back, he wasn't angry. He wasn't pushing me down in the hall again like the first time we met.</p><p>"Hey, Hansen." His voice comes out low, husky almost. Why was I only now noticing how his voice sounded and why was it causing me to have goosebumps form on my skin?</p><p>"It's nice to see you back at school," I make brief eye contact with him, before turning to my locker and opening it up, fetching out the books for my first period.</p><p>"Yeah, I suppose. Although I probably would prefer to still be in hospital over this hell whole." He says and I can't help when a slight chuckle escapes my throat. My head is in my locker, but I can see through the vent gaps in my locker that he cracks a small smile, his eyes softening and almost appreciating the fact that someone liked his joke. I don't blame him, it is better to have someone laugh with you rather than at you.</p><p>I close my locker, turning my body to face Connor. He is slouched against the locker next to mine, his hair falling over half of his face. I wish he didn't hide his face, but I can't help but notice how well his hairstyle frames his face, part of me ashamed that I can't see the different colour eyes that he has. I know his ashamed of them, another quality he believes to set him out as a freak and different from everyone else, but I just believe that it makes him more unique as someone that finds his eyes to be very pretty.</p><p>
  <em>I could stare into them forever, but that would be weird.</em>
</p><p>"Yeah, I mean school sucks. We have to attend - not that I blame you for not wanting to - but if we want any chance to get out of here, we need to graduate." I stumble out, his eyes looking slightly amused that I seem to have returned to normal, the stuttering version of myself.</p><p>"I hate that you're right." He sights, rubbing his hand down his face in a groan.</p><p>The conversation felt good, natural almost. He didn't make fun of my anxiety, didn't keep pointing out my stutters and he didn't make fun of me. How was nicer than Jared?</p><p>The mood felt light, but whenever a mood is good there is always something that will come and ruin it. In this case, that mood ruin was someone going by the name Jared Kleinman.</p><p>"Hey, school shooter chick, did you get high or something? We hadn't seen you in school, everyone thought you were dead." He laughs, mockingly. Connor's face goes hard, a straight hard look on his face.</p><p>"I almost was," he turns around, giving the bluntest response I had ever heard. "I overdosed and Evan found me in the park, so next time," he grips him by the shirt, pulling him up towards his face. "Next time, don't act like such a dick to Evan. You're lucky to be friends with him, I'm thankful I have him as a friend now. So if you hurt him again, I will end you." His gaze looks threatening, Jared placing his arms up in surrender. He places him down, Jared giving a scoff before he walks away. He is not as good at hiding his emotions as he may like, I could tell he was scared and intimidated.</p><p>Yet, at that moment I didn't care.</p><p>If I could have heart eyes at any moment, that would be it. I was close to tears, no one has ever stuck up for me like that and I was beyond grateful.</p><p>It was at that moment though, I realised one thing. I was no longer in love with Zoe.</p><p>No, now instead I was developing another crush on the other Murphy. Connor made me realise in that one moment that he would be there for me, he would stick up for me, he would take care of me and protect me. If there's anything a guy can do to make me fall for them, it's that.</p><p>
  <em>I was well and truly stuffed...</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Connor's point of view of the first day back at school.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It felt so weird, so comforting to know that whenever I went to school I would have someone to talk to.</p><p>I was the one that went to his locker, but I knew that he would occasionally be at mine. That thought provided me with a sense of comfort, a comfort that someone was there for me each day.</p><p>
  <em>It felt weird.</em>
</p><p>I had never had anyone care about me so much, myself feeling like I had never cared for anyone else as much. I stood up for someone, it felt good. It was nice, I was defending a friend. That was something I never would think I would hear myself say.</p><p><em>But then things started to change</em>, I began to feel things. I had always been one to press emotions, to bury them deep into the depth of my heart and lock them into a room, throwing away the key so that they could never escape. Around Evan though, it was like he was the magical key to open the door to my heart.</p><p>He made me begin to feel things that I knew normal friends didn't feel. My heart would begin to pound faster, butterflies would start to form in my stomach. I would notice even more things about him before, such as the fact that he has a slight accent that comes out whenever he is really angry. He said it was an accent that he picked up from his dad when he used to visit him in Colorado, his dad usually being the reason that accent came out.</p><p>The only problem was that with these feelings became less positive feelings, the fact that I started to become like Evan and get nervous around him. The fact that I began to need - no crave his presence. The way that I had started laughing anytime we spoke over the phone, something that surprisingly became a lot easier after the first time we did it. The fact I began to start to smile so much, especially when a text appeared to from him, that my family had started to question if there was anything seriously wrong with me.</p><p>This was the first time I had felt something like this, which made it suck that I felt like there was not a single person that I could talk to about this. I mean there was my dad, but who knows how he would react to the fact I was gay, nevermind the fact I had a crush on a boy. My mom would probably be fine with it, on the other hand, she would fangirl about the whole situation. The only other alternative was Zoe, but it wasn't like our relationship was still the best at the moment. </p><p>
  <em>My only option was to try and fix that...</em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>* Zoe's point of view. *</em> </strong>
</p><p>Connor had been acting strangely recently, she wasn't sure what was wrong with him. She was concerned, even though she hated herself for being concerned. She knew that she should hate him, but she could never bring herself to properly ever hate him. At least, not fully.</p><p>*Knock, Knock*</p><p>She looked at the door strangely, curious as to who was at her door.</p><p>"Zoe," Connor's voice came from outside the door and she froze. Since when does he knock? He used to bang on the door and would kick it in if he needed too, although that usually was when she could smell weed on him. She hadn't been smelling it on him as much recently. That's what made it even stranger he seemed to out of it, was he on some other type fo drugs that she didn't know about?</p><p>The truth was she has been scared after he was in the hospital for overdosing, she was worried he may try and overdose again.</p><p>"What do you want Connor?" She asks.</p><p>"Can I come in?" His voice sounded desperate, so she hesitantly got up and opened the door to let him in. He nodded his head, appreciatively and walked in. He just stood awkwardly by his bed, Zoe walking back over to take a seat on her bed.</p><p>"So what can I do for you, my dear brother?" She says, emphasising the last bit for sarcasm. He rolls his eyes and she tries to contain a smile.</p><p>"Look," he warns. "I'm only telling you this because I don't know how dad will react and there's no way I'm telling mom, she'll just completely fangirl over the matter. I think I like someone, but I'm not sure," he admits.</p><p>Zoe's eyes widen, oh so this is the reason why he had been so happy recently.</p><p>"It's Evan right?" She asks, not surprised in the slightest. The fact that Connor's eyes widen in shock, shows her how he didn't expect her to so easily guess who he liked.</p><p>"Trust me, I've seen all the lovey-dovey looks you give him and no you can't deny the fact that you do," she crosses her arms across her chest, to make it appear as though she is daring him to challenge her on the matter.</p><p>"What should I do?" Connor groans.</p><p>"Just tell him, he feels the same way," she states as though it is common knowledge. Connor sits on the bed, his hands gripping it for support.</p><p>"Wait, what?" He asks.</p><p>"Yeah, he gives you the same looks. Trust me, I wouldn't be surprised if he has loved you since the hospital. He came every day, tell me how that isn't something someone would do for someone they care about?" She questions.</p><p>He sits there, trying to process all of the information.</p><p>"Okay, I'm going to do it." He says, in triumph.</p><p>Zoe rolls her eyes. "Go," she pushes him out of the door, encouraging him to go admit his feelings right now. A laugh escapes her lips, her back sliding down the door with a smile on her face. She slowly feels like she is getting her older brother back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor rushed out of Zoe's room and he did not even know where he was going, having no clue where Evan was even located. He decided to get out his phone and text him.</p><p><strong>Connor:</strong> Hey, where are you?</p><p>Evan received the text, slightly panicking that Connor had texted him out of the blue. He thought he had done something wrong and now Connor was trying to hunt him down to seek his revenge on him.</p><p>He had called Jared over, trying to talk about his feelings for the other boy with somebody. He knew Jared wasn't exactly the best person to deal with this type of stuff, but he was the only other person that Evan felt like he could talk to about it. The teasing that came along with it was something that he was just having to endure.</p><p>"Jared," Evan whined, starting to panic about the text. "Connor just texted me asking where I am, why does he want to know? I'm not prepared to see him," he admits. </p><p>Jared rolls his eyes, taking his phone away from him. "Gosh Evan, stop being such a big baby."</p><p><strong>Evan:</strong> I'm at my house.</p><p><strong>Connor:</strong> Okay can I come over in 10?</p><p>"Oh shit," Jared says, jumping up from his seat. "He's coming over in 10 minutes, I need to go before he gets here. I do not want to see whatever type of gayness you are going to get up to." He said, gathering his stuff.</p><p>"Jared, Connor doesn't like me that way. He-we won't be gay." He blushes at the thought.</p><p><strong>Evan:</strong> Sure.</p><p>"There you go, have your phone back," he says, tossing it back over to him. "Now try not to be too kinky whilst I'm gone, I will want all the juicy details." He smirks, laughing slightly.</p><p>Evan had enough of him, pushing him out of the door and sliding down the door, his breathing becoming more rapid.</p><p>A knock broke his concentration, his breathing slightly calming down as he heard Connor's voice. He opened the door, his worries completely disappearing when he locked eyes on Connor. He seemed to glow in the sunlight, almost looking like a hot greek god. Evan wouldn't be surprised if he was in the slightest.</p><p>"Come in," he gestured towards the couch, eager for Connor to take a seat and make himself comfortable.</p><p>He sped walk over toward the couch, pacing by it instead of sitting down. He was biting his nails and for the first time, since I'd known him, he looked nervous?</p><p>"Right, I'm going to say this and get it out of my system, before my brain stops me. I like you." He says, turning his attention to me.</p><p>I look at him confused. "I like you too?"</p><p>He rolls his eyes, huffing slightly. He comes closer to me, towering over me and looking down into my eyes. "Oh my gosh, how oblivious can you be, Hansen?" He mutters. "I like, <em>like</em> you."</p><p>I blush, looking down at the floor. I feel his warmth disappear, signalling that he stepped back. "I knew this was a bad idea," he mutters under his breath.</p><p>"No," I look up, him stopping for a second and gazing back into my eyes. "Uhm-I like, like you too."</p><p>He lights up at the statement, rushing towards me, pulling me into a hug. It's weirdly affectionate for Connor, but I let myself sink into it.</p><p>
  <strong>*Jared's point of view*</strong>
</p><p>Okay so I had not disappeared at all, I was situated outside the door of the household and eavesdropping on their conversation. It was a good job that they had moved to the living room. Otherwise, I would have had to climb up to the ledge outside Evan's window to hear their conversation. It definitely would have been something I would have willingly done though.</p><p>I didn't trust either of them to be able to properly express their feelings, so of course, I had to be on stand by to force them together if needed. I felt like it would be needed.</p><p>I hear the last part of their conversation, the confession out the way at least. I pop up behind the bushes, near the open window.</p><p>"Oh my gosh just date already," I yell through the window, quickly skedaddling out of sight.</p><p>
  <strong>*Evan's point of view*</strong>
</p><p>We giggle at Jared, turning back to each other. "So, he has a point. Do you want to date?" Connor asks.</p><p>"Of course." </p><p>"Okay, well I guess we better make this official then, <em>boyfriend</em>." He smiles slightly, the word doing things to my inside.</p><p>"And how do you suggest we do that, <em>boyfriend</em>?" I repeat. </p><p>He smirks at me, leaning down to connect our lips. They're chapped and taste a mixture of mint and something else, chocolate? It sets sparks off, electricity flowing through my veins and at that moment I wear the happiest smile I ever could. I finally got a happy ending...</p><p>Connor found me and for someone reason that made everything okay. He wanted to date be, he could finally see me for me and yet he still wanted it to be only us. At that moment, I knew I was found and as long as I was with him, all I would see would be sky <em>for forever...</em></p><p>
  <strong>*The End*</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry if this is a bit of a rushed ending, I just wanted to get it finished so here we are, them finally being together! Hope you enjoyed and thanks for sticking with :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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